The Assassin of Flowers
by Rinristelli
Summary: (Prequel to It Could Only Be Fate set 3 years earlier in the story) Killua has been sent to exterminate a target during the season of flowers in the island country of Arzil where the mission goes downhill when he encounters a peculiar girl in the middle of it all. Little does he know that flowers aren't the only ones going to bloom. [Killua X OC]


〖 A Prequel Story of the It Could Only Be Fate Series 〗

 **The Assassin of Flowers**

〖 **PRELUDE** 〗

 **Bud**

* * *

 _Dazzling lights – colors flitting through like soft bubbles of sparks in the room._

 _The blossoming of flowers – the fragrance engulfing and warm._

 _People – dancing and laughing, their voices a distant buzz._

 _Music – its tune telling a tale of bright days to come._

 _(Everything feels like a dream.)_

 _She walks amidst the ongoing party, carefully threading through the sea of people._

 _Nobody seems to see her, or merely pays her no attention in favor of the celebration everyone is indulgently partaking in._

 _Her expression is placid, and her eyes are distant._

 _Everything she sees is a blur, everything she hears is dead to her ears._

 _Everything is so familiar, but at the same time, everything is so foreign._

 _She feels as if she does not belong here._

 _After all, this party held inside the castle was meant for the high society in the country. The aristocrats of Arzil. Her mother's kindred people._

 _She yearns to go outside the castle grounds, where the rest of the – her – people are._

 _She yearns to see the starry night with them, dance around the bonfire with them, and perhaps meet other children, perform the Flower Dance with them and laugh under the shower of petals with them._

 _But alas, she is powerless against her mother's command._

" _You are forbidden to leave this castle while the party is going on. It's not safe outside, do you understand?"_

" _Y-yes, Mother."_

 _Strange, because she strongly feels that it would feel much safer outside, out in the open air and shining sky._

 _The music plays still, and it sounds a bit melancholy – bittersweet._

 _Just like what she's feeling._

 _(Everything feels like a prison.)_

 _She stops in the middle and turns toward the window to her left. She places a hand on the tinted glass, and looks down at the world outside just beyond her reach._

 _The Flower Dance had already begun, the children from all over the country dancing and laughing with joy as the petals fell all around them like colorful rain._

 _The Flower Dance was a part of Arzil's tradition during the celebration of Elauna. It was said that the Goddess herself once sprinkled flower petals upon the country, bestowing her blessings of eternal prosperity on its land and people. This is her homage, and the natives always believed that children who partake in the dance received abundant blessings and grow to be very fortunate and highly successful._

 _She had never experienced it before – and probably never will – but she thinks that it doesn't really matter. It made little difference. She had always been unfortunate._

 _Her heart aches – always has been – and she closes her eyes tightly._

 _Perhaps, she decides, it might be better to return to the room where she had been originally – hidden – kept. There, she would patiently wait for her mother's return, bringing with her another of her clients._

 _She feels a little better thinking about it. That had been the silver lining in her life, or specifically, the power she possessed. It made her happy, gave her a sense of purpose, whenever she uses her power for her mother's sake._

 _Another task completed would surely please her mother, maybe pleased enough to let her go outside…_

 _She shakes her head at the encompassing thought, feeling a little bit ashamed. She knew she existed for her mother's purpose – as what she has always been told –, not the other way around._

 _Slowly she turns her back from the warmth that the world outside the window – promised – emitted. Reluctantly she left._

 _She blends into the party once again. Everything seemed much distorted than before._

 _The music continues to play, the tune soft and heartbreakingly beautiful._

 _She unconsciously pauses at the middle of the crowd, and allowed a moment to close her eyes, savouring the pleasant humming sensation in the air._

 _Through the duration of the night – and perhaps even in her life – this was the first time she felt relaxed, the first time she felt at peace._

 _(Everything feels…)_

 _She felt it before she even saw it._

 _The pleasant feeling she initially felt thumped and writhed into something unpleasant. Something sinister._

 _It was small, unnoticeable, invisible even, but it was there. She couldn't tell where it came from, but the shocking sensation it brought felt like someone just jabbed her in the ribs._

 _Her eyes opened in alarm, her shoulders jolting in fright._

 _She looked around and the feeling disappeared. No one seemed to notice it but her. Everyone was still talking animatedly, some dancing to the music that she didn't notice changed into something much festive and upbeat._

 _She sighed in relief, ironic that she was somehow comforted by the very environment she despised. 'It must have been my imagination', she thinks, but inside her heart was still racing._

 _Once again everything reverted into a blur. The people moving patches of colors, the music a low drone in her ears._

 _(Everything feels normal.)_

 _She turns around, now determined to return to her designated room, only to freeze on the spot._

 _In this world of blurred colors and distorted noise, he was the only thing that she saw with perfect clarity._

 _Her eyes had been instantly drawn to him, this boy who could not be older nor younger than her._

 _At that moment, everything seemed to flow in a state of slow motion. She found that she couldn't take her eyes off of him._

 _He moved like a ghost, silent and unnoticed, weaving in and out through the plethora of people like how she had once done before. The only difference was that there was a sort an otherworldly quality in the way he moves, the way he looks, with his casual gait and his hands hidden in his pockets._

 _His posture suggested he was looking straight ahead, although his head was angled downward. And she found this strange, for how can he see where he's heading to, and how did he navigate with such smooth elegance when his eyes are hidden behind his long, silver fringe bangs?_

 _The fact that she couldn't see his eyes unsettled her, but he took her breath away when he walked underneath the chandelier. His silver hair shone under the light, the vibrant flowers of the flower crown he wore bearing a stark contrast against his diaphanous locks. Everything else in between about him was either pale or white._

 _He looked entirely like an angel to her. An ethereal novelty._

 _He was drawing closer and closer, and despite her intense and unabashed observation, he didn't seem to notice her attention._

 _Her breath caught in her throat when they were but a mere 12 inches apart. She didn't even see him shuffle pass her when she blinked._

 _Everything about him was unbelievable. He left her staggering to comprehend his existence that she would be convinced if he's nothing more but a mirage that her mind made up at the peak of her loneliness._

 _But then his shoulder brushed against hers._

 _It was light and barely grazed her, but that split-second contact was enough to send an electric current surging through her body._

 _For a second her heart roared in her ears, for a second her temperature dropped and collided with the heat that rose in her veins, for a second the two of them were the only people in the room filled with nothingness and sublime silence._

 _It was a second of eternity._

 _Time snapped back to the present.  
Everything reverted back to the clear and lively atmosphere after he appeared and disappeared from her line of sight. _

_For a moment she wavered, blinking twice, thrice, like waking up from a dream._

 _She whipped around to where he was heading off to, suddenly worried if that had been real. Relief and astonishment filled her when she saw him with his back turned to her._

 _How strange that had been, that hazy sensation she felt. Now that it's gone, she became aware of something she hadn't realized before._

 _That silver haired boy was wearing the traditional white Arzillian costume that a child must wear when he participates in the Flower Dance._

 _Curiosity overpowered the initial envy she felt that he could participate in the event. She was certain that she just saw the Flower Dance commence outside – and judging from the laughter and noise it hasn't ended yet – so if he is part of those children, why was he here? Why is he inside the castle where no one but Arzil's aristocrats and distinguished guests are allowed? And if he had been an aristocrat's child, shouldn't he be outside?_

 _(Curiosity kills the cat.)_

 _A frown formed between her eyebrows. She'd follow him, she decides._

 _She quickly followed suit, keeping a close eye as to not lose him in the crowd, murmuring quick apologies to those she bumped into in her haste._

 _Anxiety began to grow and palpitate the closer she gets. She knew that she should go back to where she was intended, but if she stops now, she gets the feeling she'll never see him again, this mysterious, fascinating boy._

 _She should've been alarmed at how easily he overrode her priorities. He was compelling her in the likeness of a moth drawn to a flame, or perhaps a helpless captive seeing the exit to a maze._

 _She stares at his retreating figure and dismisses her silly thoughts._

 _Perhaps he is lost, she tells herself. If that's the case then she would gladly show him around. But then she remembers the way he moved, and a lost person would never look so calm as he did._

 _He moved with purpose – every step elegant and precise – and it had occurred to her then that he was there for a reason. A reason she could only fathom until she sees it for herself._

 _She's made up her mind. She was going to follow him wherever he may go in this place if it meant freedom from the miserable routine and boredom she's trapped in, even for a little while._

 _However, it began to grow increasingly difficult to not lose sight of the boy. The people seemed to increase in number, making it hard for her to keep a steady eye on him and push through with her small frame. The boy on the other hand, seemed to have no trouble moving amidst the horde of people as he moved further and further away from her._

 _His silver hair and flower crown, his most distinguishable features that she could see, her guiding star among the crowd of moving colors, was beginning to look far away from her reach._

 _She was losing him, and just when she stood on her toes to see where he's headed to, he disappeared. She tried to locate him but it was no use._

 _In a fit of despair she squirmed and burst through the mob, stumbling unto her knees when she hurled herself forward. She heard a woman's cry of protest from her left and someone calling her from behind but ignored them when she caught a glimpse of his figure._

 _She immediately turned her head only to see him exiting through the door, his silver hair swaying from the flow of his actions was the last thing she saw of him before the door closed completely._

 _She dashed forward and nearly tripped when she almost ran over a guest that suddenly passed by in front of her, earning a glare that she paid no heed to._

 _Finally she was at the door, and with small hands gripping the handles, tugged it open._

 _Nervous and out of breath, she peeked outside and looked from left to right, expecting to see his figure any second now. To her surprise and utter discouragement, the hallway was empty and quiet with a ghostly ambiance._

 _She pulled away from the door and stood lost marvelling at the mystery. Where had he gone? She was on to him a moment ago but now he's nowhere to be seen. How did he manage to move so fast?_

 _Who is he?_

 _Her personal butler and instructor who had been calling her from behind back at the ballroom finally caught up to her. She was instantly filled with contrite, remembering that not only did she leave her room without her mother's permission, but also failed to adhere to her butler's condition of not deviating from his sight when he allowed her a limited amount of time to roam and explore the party._

 _Her butler eventually asked what had caused her to run off on her own, and while she has never lied to him, she just couldn't bring herself to tell him about the mysterious boy with the silver hair. To her relief, he dropped the issue, along with bringing her time of leisure to an end._

 _The events that transpired after she was found passed like a strip of film fleeting across her half-lidded eyes like faded motion pictures. She was returned to her designated room without her mother finding out that she had actually snuck out._

 _(Everything is normal again…)_

 _(…but not everything stays the same.)_

 _That night, the peaceful world she knew shattered._

 _That night, she got to know the color of blood – red like the flowers of Obiores_ _(the Arzil god of Death)._

 _That night, she never felt so alive – following the trail of liquid crimson that led her to the silver haired assassin._

 _That fateful night, the third Heiress of the Cariona family met the Heir of the Zoldycks._


End file.
